


That's Okay Because I Like The Abuse.

by orphan_account



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: ADHD, Abuse, Bisexuality, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, LGBTQ Themes, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Trans Character, chronic motor tic disorder, possibly might have happy ending, trans nonbinary, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 13:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wrench struggles day to day but won't show anyone how much it hurts him.





	That's Okay Because I Like The Abuse.

Floating,ever so light.Suspended in position. Motionless.  
It’s a calming sensation,like being weightless. Like being in the water of an indoor pool. It’s warm and nice. Only it’s dark and there isn’t any water. Any objects to hold onto. It’s a void that’s holding you,cradling you like a baby in cloth. It’s such an odd feeling,but a comforting one. He leans his head back slightly,his lanky limbs dangling as he is held aloft by nothing. He breathes,letting the calm take over,letting it ease him into pure nothingness. Becoming the void itself. 

An echo pierces the collective calm of this atmosphere. It is cold and wet,yet it sounds entrancing and far off but also too close for good measure.He feels himself move his head back up ever so slightly,not being able to control himself,just letting it happen. Eyes flutter open like a butterfly nestling softly on a flower. Eyelashes brushing against his gaunt features. He looks at himself. He is nude.No clothes. No Mask. No anything. He cannot control his actions,feeling like a puppet being pulled by string.However,at the same time feels completely aware of what he is doing. He rises up more,placing feet on a now seemingly flat surface. Like a floor but no indication or visual of such arises. Just a black void. He stares down at his body,unphased by everything happening. His pale body is almost ghostly white compared to the residence in which he resides. The sound of the dripping draws him in but he also can’t seem to move willingly. Stuck and perplexed on why he is staring at his feet and hands. They are vibrating and moving out of frame. It’s when he realizes none of this is real. He can feel his head involuntarily turn towards the echoing noise. There’s no water or object in sight. Squinting and furrowing his brow he turns around a few more times,looking for the source.Then he looks up.On what appears to be the other side of this void and it’s odd configuration,is a ripple of tiny rain droplets,echoing throughout this odd entity in which he resides. There is a victorian looking red velvet and gold trimmed chair there. An old record player with a gramophone on a small stand. A lamp with a faint glow shares its space.. It’s at this point he realizes he’s on the ceiling. He pushes off of it and slowly floats towards the objects. Fingers lightly touch the varnished detail around the base of the chair. He slowly brings himself to it,sitting down in it,feeling himself drag over his arm to the gramophone record player.He doesn’t get to touch it before it starts to blare his alarm clock beeps and chirps. It’s scattered and busted at first but gradually gets louder and louder until he cannot stand it. His eyes widen and he feels himself being ripped from this state of mind. 

Wrench wakes up in a sweat. His arms and legs twitching. His hands jerk all over and his fingers creep and stretch out,moving wildly.He’s breathing heavy and all he sees at the moment is the ceiling. There’s a bi pride flag hanging on it. Wrench insisted on putting it there.He balls his fists up and he breathes in,  
breathes out. His hands ball in and out,black nails almost digging into his skin.Closing his eyes tight,he focuses on his breathing and what his therapist used to tell him. His black nails retract from his palms and slowly retreat outwards. Wrench opens his eyes yet again,his brow falling back. He grips the edges of the couch and lifts himself up. He’s nude,well,except for some pac-man looking briefs.Wrench turns his head and his mask resides on a small end table. Then he notices. “Wait..what the f-” He crashed at the wrong Dedsec base. “Fuccckkkk my life!” He throws his skinny arms into the air in frustration and leans his head back,plopping right back down on the couch.Wrench looks around for any sign of life but it seems everyone’s out for the day. He looks up at the ceiling again. There’s multiple lgbt+ flags on the ceiling and some of Sitara’s unique Dedsec art,graffiti,as well as some..more interesting decorations lining the walls and floor. He turns to the side and stares at his mask for a good while before deciding not to put it on at the moment or two. He stares down at the floor. Beer bottles. Booze. Alcohol. Champagne. He must have drank what he would deem as “Just a little too much”. Wrench lazily reaches over for the remote before flicking on the tv just to see what’s been going on since he blacked out from the booze. The news muffles itself in the background as he checks his phone. It’s already 12 in the afternoon. He looks back up at the News showing the pride parade passing through. Looks like Marcus,Sitara and Josh all joined in.He wishes Horatio could have been there. “Shit it’s pride month isn’t it?”he mumbles in a spiked stupor. And it was. Probably why he got wasted last night. He only wonders why no one texted or called him asking where he was. Speaking of the devil,his phone lights up.Vibrations,ringing,ringtones etc.All his messages,calls,texts,emails the works all comes in at once and Wrench is not awake enough to really care.He takes a bottle of whiskey to his lips and chugs what left of it. He shakes his head,embracing the bitter and ugly taste of the liquid. Half the time he doesn’t even know why he drinks whiskey-besides getting blacked out of course. 

Wrench sits there. The ticking of the clock echoes throughout the base. It’s eeriness spreading throughout the base like a plague.Time feels like it slows down as the liquor embraces his mind. To him it feels like hours,but it’s only been a few minutes. Wrench gets his head mostly together and stands up. He keeps a hand on the walls,making sure he doesn’t drift away from them and fall from the weakness in his legs. He does this for a while before finding his way to the bathroom. Wrench closes the door and locks it from the inside.He relieves himself at the toilet and washes his hands.He glances at the mirror.The mirror stares at him. He finally looks at himself. He’s so pale that it looks unhealthy. His eye sockets are sunken in,and his cheekbones and jawline stand out. His nose juts out and down like a goddamn beak,and that stupid birthmark near his eye was enough to make him despise himself. His eyes weren’t even nice looking.He starts to pan towards his tattoo and arm covered abdomen,looking at the scars all over his body. Some scars purposely there,some not. His eyes dart up. Then down. Side to side. He doesn’t want to look anymore. Wrench balls his fists up again. He wants to destroy his face. He wants to drag his dumb black nailpolished fingers across his face until it’s not recognizable anymore.He tears his eyes away from the mirror and backs up until his back hits the door. Wrench slides down slowly,clutching the sides of his head and digging his fingers into what’s left of his hair. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Wrench feels his arms just go limp and he tilts his head back as much as he can.He furrows his brow and he can sense the tears welling up in his eyes,streaming down his face. Wrench shuts his eyes tight again. Come on,Wrench. Get it together. Get it together. Come on,Come on,Come on! His mind yells.He takes a moment to breathe again. The bathroom floor is cold. Wrench hangs his head to the side,his eyes focusing on a tile on the floor and then he just loses focus all together. He can hear the tv muffle from the door. “Fuck..” he mutters to himself. Wrench picks himself off the floor slowly. This time ignoring the mirror. He kicks off his boxer briefs and he fiddles with the alien-technology knob,trying to figure out how the hell this bases’ shower work. He fiddles some more,proceeding to get sprayed on the back with ice cold water. Wrench jolts from the sudden impact and quickly turns the lever the other way to get some hot water. He trembles at the adapt change but starts to relax. He can feel his head getting heavy and lets it caress the cold wall of the showers interior. He breathes in. His muscles cease being tense. He breathes out.


End file.
